


Her Mission

by LizGettingLost



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizGettingLost/pseuds/LizGettingLost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mainly Shaw's thoughts during that elevator scene in If-Then-Else. (With a slight twist at the end)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Mission

She can feel Root's hands closing around both of her forearms from behind. The weapons she just reloaded discarded to the floor. Fingers gripping tight. Nails almost cutting into her skin despite the fabric of her black coat. _Holding on to her for dear life._  


_"Sameen, if you even think I'm gonna let you-"_  


Root's body pressed up against her back, meaning to hold her close, to keep her safe, _to keep her with her_. And to prevent her from accomplishing the mission. _Her mission._  


_Rage._  


What the hell is she doing? They only have a small timeframe until that blonde bitch and her lethal groupies would close in on them and kill them all. She wouldn't let any of them die inside this shithole. She wouldn't let _her_ die inside this shithole. _Or anywhere really._  


Someone has to go push that damn button. She has to go push that damn button. It's a no-brainer, really. But Root is holding on to her. Root is _ruining_ it. Their escape, their chances at winning this war. _The chances at accomplishing her mission._  


_"For god's sake!"_  


She pushes out of Root's grasp. _Forcefully._ It's easy freeing herself from her. _Or so she thinks._  


Until she furiously whirls around, meeting her eyes. Only those are not Root's eyes anymore. Or they are but completely clouded over by a range of emotion Shaw has never seen on her face before. _Or on anyone's face, really._  


She's trying to push through it, to free herself from that look in her eyes. Tries for it to be as easy as when she freed herself from that tight grasp a split second before. It's harder. _It's impossible._  


Because Root's eyes are pleading, are begging for her to stay. To not go out there. To rather die here and together and _with her_ , than to go out there, sacrificing her life in exchange for theirs. _For hers._  


Fear and panic interlace in those eyes. But it's not fear to die, she realizes. Because the possibility of dying on a mission. For a mission. For _HER._ It has always been a possibility, could have been a necessity. And Root had accepted that a long time ago. Would have done it gladly. _Would still do it._  


The concept of death isn't what frightens Root here. _Living without Shaw is._  


Stupid.  


Pathetic.  


_Dangerous._  


She rolls her eyes, still fighting hard to push away from her. From those haunting eyes. This thunderstorm of emotions. Needing to free herself from Root with everything she has.  


Or else they would all die. She wouldn't be able to safe them anymore. _Wouldn't be able to safe her._  


She is a soldier on a mission. She is a good soldier. _She doesn't fail._  


But Root is standing there.  


Motionless. Without saying a word. Fuck, without so much as taking a breath. Just looking. Not physically holding her back in any way. But affectively keeping her in place nonetheless. Trapping her. _Freezing her._  


She has to find a way out of this. Whatever _this_ is. She needs to take a step back. _Just one._ Close the elevator's grate. Turn. Run. Push that button. And take those motherfuckers down one after the other. She can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. It's kill or get killed. _It's a fucking rush._  


She's made for stuff like this. She _loves_ stuff like this. _Except this time she doesn't._  


The plan is clear. Simple even in its design. Go. Safe. Kill. It _should_ be easy. _Except this time it isn't._  


Because Root is standing there. And that single step back is suddenly too much to take. She can't go without giving Root something first. _She can't go without taking something for herself from Root first._  


She doesn't know what this _something_ is . But suddenly she is grabbing Root's jacket. Burying her left fist in the leather. Pulling Root against her. _Hard._ Grounding them both while crashing their lips together. She's not sure what it was supposed to be. But she is not prepared for what it becomes. It's violent and forceful, needy and bruising. It's a first and it sure as hell _feels_ like a last. And that is the problem, really. _It is making her feel._  


Something.  


Anything.  


_Everything._  


And she is not prepared for that.  


Root is still not touching her. Not holding on to her. Not holding her back. Motionless. _Except she isn't._ Because her lips are pushing back against hers. Seeking out that same unnamed _something_ Shaw herself craves so desperately. A tiny whimper escapes Root's throat. Pleading. For what, she does not know. Doesn't want to know. Because she doesn't know anything anymore. And maybe the whimper wasn't even Root's. _Maybe the plea was her own._  


She lessens the pressure of her lips. Not by much. Just enough to open her mouth. To let Root in. _Finally._ Hands still holding her close. Fingers fisting the leather even harder now. Her tongue meeting Root's.  


Claiming. 

Demanding. 

_Needing._

Then a push. She stumbles slightly but regains her equilibrium almost immediately. She hears the lock of the grate snapping shut. Her eyes are never leaving Root's. Trying to catch on to what it was that just happened.  


Because her fist is still buried in that leather. She is still holding Root close. Her other hand, the one that is still holding her gun, falls away from Root's upper arm. She pulls her eyes away from Root's, searching the elevator. Fusco is nowhere to be seen. She turns around promptly and sees the elevator's gate slowly closing. While on the other side Lionel Fusco is standing tall. A gun in each hand. _Root's guns._ Firing away. Saving them all. Accomplishing the mission.  


_Her mission._

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at writing Root/Shaw. Actually my first try at writing any fanfiction in English. So please let me know what you think if you feel like it!
> 
> ps: I'm very sorry Fusco. In my headcanon you totally survive that shit and walk out there as the hero. With a moody Shaw on your heels, insulting you because you cheated her out of saving the day. Root is very appreciative though. Which annoys Shaw even more because the machine clued her in on that stunt you pulled in that simulation. Yeah, better not do that again.


End file.
